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<title>no hard feelings, no soft hearts by QueenVeeples (CherubHope)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962657">no hard feelings, no soft hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherubHope/pseuds/QueenVeeples'>QueenVeeples (CherubHope)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soft Mason</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:34:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherubHope/pseuds/QueenVeeples</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of the Mason/Faustus Valentine drabbles.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Casual sex was- is something Faustus is used to.</p><p>In a town as small as Wayhaven, there wasn’t much to catch his interests. School never did. His band fell apart before it really took its first gasping breath. But the flirty looks shot at him across the bar, the stolen touches across his shoulders, his arms, the kisses shared just past the edge of dim yellow lamp lights in alleyways? Sure, yeah, that he could get into. </p><p>It was something to fill his time, at least.</p><p>And damn anyone who said he hadn’t gotten it down to a practiced art. He made his intentions clear as day: <i>this is just for a night, don’t expect anything else, lose my number if you want to try for a date</i>. Cold and clinical. The cut had to be precise so the break would be clean, after all.</p><p>So when Mason propositioned him outside his apartment the night the Maa-alused attacked his apartment and succeeded where Bobby had failed, with that smirk of his that made his heart skid off track and a promise that it was just sex, it made sense, then. It did, it did.</p><p>Faustus thought he knew what to expect when Mason shoved him past the threshold of his apartment, hands and mouths seeking each other in the fading dark of his apartment. Each touch, each kiss, each growl in his ear should have slotted neatly into the space he carved in himself to drop those experiences. But nothing had ever been easy with Mason. The way his named curled out of Mason’s mouth like he were savoring each syllable - Fos-tus - to the way those gray eyes had not seemed as so many storm clouds rolling in but the watery light of a hard won dawn refused to be held under something so restrictive as “just casual sex”.</p><p>Initially he tried to feign ignorance to the burgeoning feelings that fought for his acknowledgement every time something sweeter happened between them. It’d been easy enough, too. The kisses to the back of his neck were meant to rile him up. The arm around his waist was just for a stupid picture. If he didn’t drop his arm, that was just because Mason hadn’t noticed and Faustus didn’t care to tell him. Brush it away thinking, none of this mattered. No hard feelings, no soft hearts.</p><p>It was his mantra. It was his anchor.</p><p>Then--</p><p>Well, then Mason just had to kiss him without an ounce of fire but with so much honest tenderness it nearly sent the walls around his heart crashing to crumbling ruins. It almost even brought tears to his eyes because when was the last time someone, <i>anyone</i>, kissed him like he was more than just a hot body and a temporary distraction? And lying beyond the delight of Mason’s lips slanted across his own and the shivering thrill of his fingers curling around his neck, something shone through his heart’s hairline fractures, a dusty feeling he’d shoved away.</p><p><i>Hope</i>.</p><p>A hope crushed before it could even sprout the earth beneath Mason’s heavy boots. Whatever moment that was blushing something new, something uncharted between them, got soured by one simple comment and Mason hit him with that biting reminder of what they were. Fuck buddies. Casual. Nothing.</p><p>A bitter reminder. A knife between his ribs, mocking him for indulging, even momentarily, the want to chase the fluttering of his heart reaching out for Mason. </p><p>“No hard feelings,” he reminded himself as he shoved away from the table and slouched out of Haley’s Bakery, scrambling to steel the walls falling to the heedless storm that was Mason. </p><p>No hard feelings. No soft hearts.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Inspired  by an ask from Mishka where M would call a drunk MC a muppet.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mason wrinkled his nose at the pungent combination of stale alcohol and sour vomit as soon as he stepped inside Wayhaven’s one bar. Plenty of heads swung around to watch him stride inside, drunk, glazed eyes sparking with lust. He ignored every single one, every single call for his attention, his focus zeroed in on the familiar silhouette of Faustus seated at the bar.</p><p>A small collection of glass tumblers surrounded him, only dregs of amber liquid pooled in their bottom. Faustus leaned back, letting out a whooping laugh at the comment the bartender made about it being rare to see him without that ‘brooding dark haired, grey eyed drink of a man’ that Mason assumed was him. A smirk curled at the corners of his lips briefly until it dropped back down into a scowl at the bartender brushing his fingers across Faustus’s wrist.</p><p>Absolutely the fuck not.</p><p>In just a few wide strides, Mason came up to Faustus’s side, his arm draping across his shoulders. His growl snapped the bartender’s attention away from him. He flashed a nervous smile, flung his hands up in a clear sign of ‘okay, backing off now’ and scuttled away to tend to some drunkard calling for another beer.</p><p>“Well aren’t you a sight to see,” Mason turned his attention to Faustus, the man turned in his hold to better face him. “Don’t suppose you’re going home with someone special tonight, are you?”</p><p>Christ. He was more drunk than he took him for. Mason resisted rolling his eyes and schooled his expression into a classic smolder, his lips widening into a sharp smile.</p><p>“Dunno,” Mason leaned down closer so the words hung in the sliver of space between them. “Depends on who’s asking.”</p><p>Despite the haze of alcohol clouding Faustus’s eyes, his expression lit up just the same way, drawing Mason closer. Faustus gazed at him like everything else in the world just dropped out of existence and the burning trail connecting them was the only thing he could follow.</p><p>“Usually I would jump at the chance,” Faustus grinned. “But I have a boyfriend.”</p><p>Whatever trance that Mason often found himself in when heated moments bubbled between them quickly broke. There was no joking tone in his voice, just a twinge of disappointment and sincerity. Mason scoffed loudly at the stupidity of the comment.</p><p>But, Mason thought with a smirk. It meant that Faustus could do with a reminder.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s me, you muppet.”</p><p>Mason closed the scarce distance between them, slanting his lips against Faustus, igniting the familiar sear of gut-deep desire and flaming passion. Faustus’s moan into his mouth only spurred him, tugging the man tighter against him. When they parted for air with one of Faustus’s hands curled into his hair and one gripping into jean material at his hip, Faustus’s eyes looked more focused.</p><p>“Oh, right,” Faustus breathed against him, thudding his forehead against his shoulder. His hot breath puffed against his skin. “Forgot how lucky I was for a moment.”</p><p>It took all of Mason’s control the stop a stupid grin that wanted to desperately claw it’s way out. Instead he favored guiding Faustus off the barstool, keeping him close to his side as they walked out. “You’re damn right.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so how about that book 3 demo huh</p></blockquote></div></div>
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